or almost three decades, Ron Cooper (born 1943) has split his time
between Taos, New Mexico and Oaxaca, Mexico creating art that
reflects the culture he has immersed himself in, while working to-

wards sourcing, bottling, and importing the finest single village Mezcal, Del
Maguey, from remote villages in the state of Oaxaca. His Mezcal has been
nominated four years running for a James Beard Award, and now it is time
to celebrate the entire creation of the artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s journey.
Throughout his time in Mexico, Cooper learned to speak using the local
Oaxacan Spanish dialect, borrowing phrases from the ancient Nahuatl
speakers who spoke in poetic puns and contemporary Spanish speaking
Zapotecs, Mixes and Mixtecos continue the tradition of using language as
a type of poetic game, communication where intent is valued far more than
literal Anglo/Germanic style of communications.
This exhibition of artwork represents the largest body of Oaxacan works
Cooper has exhibited at one time, in one place; and the hope is to have
the exhibition travel to the Pacific Standard Time: LA LA (Los Angeles - Latin
America) exhibition being mounted by the J. Paul Getty Museum in 2017.

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pending a third of the year in Oaxaca for the past two decades, living with the
Zapotec people and immersing himself in their culture has, over time, inspired Ron
Cooper to create a series of work based on the tradition of dichos: Colloquial

sayings that are part of the Spanish language and culture. Using minimal found materials
including plastic bottles, hand-painted in sign painter’s enamel with dichos and mounted
on an assortment of plates and trays, mostly plastic, some of the bottles contain things like
dried grass or agave; some have bugs and bits of dried plant matter glued to them.
“I stole them,” he says guilelessly, when asked about the dichos he’s used for this body of
curious work.
These sayings and proverbs are far removed from the more formal (and recognizable)
dichos common to Hispania and are in fact, particular to the Zapotec villagers with whom
he spends his time while in Oaxaca. These humble vessels of language and decay,
battered, broken, rolled over and rendered ambiguous and enigmatic by time and the
elements, marked with language shorthand, they serve to remind that we too reside in
impermanent containers, no matter how much we might attempt to cosmetically or
otherwise alter that reality.